Courtier from Corellia
by darthluna01
Summary: When Bail Organa adopts six-year-old Han Solo off the streets of Corellia, he has the opportunity for a new family and a better life. Specifically with the infant princess whose path is permanently bonded to his. AU.
1. An Orphan Named Han Solo

Bail Organa gazed out the side of the relatively flat, gray hovercraft. He noted the interesting architecture the Corellians seemed to prefer. The style included many basic forms, nothing elegant or artistic. It bordered on ugly, with the plain fronts and spasmodic color spurts of red and orange.

_Hopefully, _Bail thought, _their art doesn't parallel their personalities._

The situation in the Outer Rim and Clone Wars were at high odds. No one seemed to visibly be winning. The Republic fought hard, but the Seperatists were always one step ahead. This meeting would determine Corellia's position in the militia, and their source of raw materials for the Republic. Agriculture was at its peak price, with many of the farms in jeopardy. The Corellian Sector was rich in farming on Tralus, which might be a pivotal point in the war to supply the troops.

"Sir, this is the Capitol Building."

The repulsorlifts secured onto the floor of the docking bay where a small band of men were waiting.

"Senator Organa! Welcome to Corellia! I am Garm Bel Iblis, Prime Minister of Corellia."

The robust Corellian stepped forward, offering his hand with a pleasant smile on his face. His dark brown hair and moustache gleamed in the sunlight, setting of the crimson red of his robes.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Prime Minister Bel Iblis. Coronet is all I imagined and more. I'm quite...impressed on my first visit." In a way, it was true. He hadn't really known what to expect, imagining a smaller, less populated Coruscant.

The four men behind the Prime Minister nodded gratification, while they led their guest inside. Bail silenty thanked the Force that they were so agreeable; he did not need another Ithorian incident.

-----

"Prime Minister, I cannot tell you how much I appreciate your plans to continue to asssist the Republic. I can only give you my warmest thanks, and the gratitude of those who work to keep democracy upheld."

Bel Iblis rose from the table, signifying that the conference was coming to a close. "Of course, Senator. You are indeed very welcome, and I hope you are satisfied with your quarters and Corellia. Make yourself at home during your stay. If there is anything to your dissatisfaction, by all means, contact my people.

"If you'll excuse me, the head of our Police department has apprehended some miscreants that have been running about, and there was some trouble at which I must resolve."

Bail stood as well. "Yes, I shouldn't like to keep you detained. Good day and good fortune to you, Minister." The Corellian party exited their guest from the room, following shortly.

Bail sprinted briskly down the stairs in search of a possible exit, but resolved to simply go down the the lobby floor. He had been sitting for over an hour, and te excercise felt good on his legs.

As he hummed himself an Alderaani tune about beautiful flowers, a scruffy young boy ran down the hall without looking, and slammed right into him headlong!

"Ahh! S-s-sorry, misser!" The fast boy looked to be roughly five years old, a good height, and skinny for one so young. But what was most noticeable was how scrawny and dirty he looked.

"Whoah, there young man. Why in such a hurry?" Bail remarked as he held on to the scrambling child's arm.

"Hey! Let go o' me!" He struggled and writhed, but to no avail. From the opposite direction, a rigid woman in a stiff blue and red-cuffed uniform jogged toward the pair.

"You there, come back here, kid!" She yelled.

Immediately, the youngster attempted to flee, but with Organa keeping a firm hold, the boy could do no more than scuffle his feet about.

Bail frowned. What could possibly have the authorities out for such a small child? He looked down at the dirty brown hair and shaggy clothes. A wave of pity engulfed him at the thought of what the boy's situation might be.

"Excuse me, madam, but what business is there that concerns this child?"

She looked affronted. In a rather demanding tone, she replied, "I'm Police Deputy Krelik, and this boy is suspected of theft. Who might you be?"

"Senator Bail Organa of Alderaan. I--"

"Well, Senator, why don't you just enjoy your vacation and let me do my job. Hand over the troublemaker," Krelik interrupted.

Keeping the flicker of annoyance concealed, he said in a civil manner, "I'm sure that this is a misunderstanding. The boy's barely able to talk--"

--"Hey! I can sure talk misser-mister!"

"--and that he should go without any punishment." The senator finished, ignoring the kid's protests.

This only seemed to get the woman more huffed. "That will be for _me _to decide, _Senator _Organa of _Alderaan._"

They simply stared speechless, which the little rascal took to his advantage. He was not simply going to wait around to watch the two grown-ups talk nonsense back and forth. With a quick movement of the wrist, he released himself from Bail's grip and sped off.

"Officer Krelik!" boomed a familiar voice. It was the Prime Minister, who had been another victim of the boy's recklessness.

"P-Prime Minister Bel Iblis, sir! I was attempting to catch this little felon when this Alderaanian, uh, got in my way!"

Garm gave the scene a withering look, and then interrogated his police deputy, "What is the meaning of all this, Krelik?"

The woman snapped to attention, speaking like a motor on a hyperdrive. "The-kid-was-found-in-the-local-market-stealing-bread-we-caught-him-on-surveillance-and-immediately-apprehended-the-little-criminal-but-the-sneaky--"

Her superior held up his hand to shut her up. "Enough. I can see that Senator Organa is indeed right. Krelik, there are much more important things to attend to than fruit-stealing little boys."

"Now," Iblis kneeled to the ground to face the young boy who was trying to conceal a grin, but failing miserably, "what's your name, child?"

"Why should I tell you?" he answered back impudently, showing a stubborn character despite his age.

"Because," the Prime Minister slipped casually, "maybe...I can help you."

"I don't need nobody's help. Han Solo can manage just fine on his own!" The boy pointed proudly at himself, until he realized that he had just told them his name.

"Han Solo, eh? Well, Han, can you tell us where your parents are? They must be very worried with you gone."

Han scrunched his face, as if the subject were something smelly. "I ain't got no parents, and I ain't goin' back to one of them orfages. I tell ya, I can get on jus' fine! I don't need nobody to come an' take care of me!"

Bel Iblis resisted the urge to laugh at the kid's stubborness. It was the Corellian spirit, all right. "But if you continue to try and steal food, I'm afraid that by our law, you'll have to be punished. I think you would be much better of in and orphanage, where you could be around other children and go to school."

"But-but I don't _wanna _go to school, and I been to an orfage before, and the nurse said I was a rep-repro-repro--" he struggled with the word.

"Reprobate?" Bail suggested, thinking that the boy was awfully intelligent for his age, even if his grammar was down the trash compactor.

"Yep. That's what she called me. I dunno what it means, but I didn't like it so I left. And good riddens!" Oh, definitely Corellian.

Garm, even though amused by the conversation, did not have the time to haggle with a six year old. "Okay, Han. What about this - you stay here for the night and think it over, and then apologize to Mister Organa for so rudely bumping into him, okay? You can have a room here and dinner. Then we'll see what we can do for you."

Thinking it over, Han weighed the options in his head. Finally, he returned, "Sure. Why not? I'm kinda hungry, and the last thing I ate was outta the scraps from some fancy shmancy place. Er, is there a 'fresher 'round here?"

"I can show you where it is," Bail Organa found himself saying.

The Prime Minister dismissed them gratefully so he could get back to his work, and Organa led the boy into the refresher. While he waited outside, he felt oddly curious about the boy. Why, he didn't know, but he had a feeling that the headstrong Corellian child was growing on him.

**AN: Han is almost seven, to clear things up. It's two or three years off from his canon age, but I decided to make him a little younger. Review!**


	2. The Dream

Han looked around his room, finding it cozy and comfortable. He resolved to take advantage of it while it was here, and also get filled up on a fresh meal before it was time to head back out and try getting work again. He knew that he didn't want to go back to some orphanage and wait to be adopted. No, sir. Besides, he didn't like the looks those fancy rich ladies were constantly giving him when he was at the orphanage.

He was Han Solo, and he could get on just fine all by himself. The stubbornly independent six year old flopped down on the cushy bed, his arms crossed leisurely behind his head as he looked up at the ceiling. His stomach grumbled loudly, and Han thought to himself from one thing to the other. First, he wondered what kind of food might be served, if they had some clean water for a bath, and then he somehow thought back to that kind of high and mighty looking guy he'd bumped into.

Alderaanian? He'd never heard of that place before, but he was sure it was kinda nice because the fellow he'd bumped into was all dressed up. Or at least, he looked a little dressed up.

But Han wouldn't hold the man's clothes against him. Because he was pretty nice after all, standing up to that other woman. The Prime Minister had said his name was...what _had _he said? Something like, Organs. Organelles? Organers? Organdy? No, those weren't it.

_Oh, well. Whatever, I ain't gonna see him again anyway. _Han flipped over to his side, feeling that a nap would be just the thing before going to have something to eat. And when was the last time he'd actually slept with clean sheets anyway?

The little Corellian boy was snoring within ten seconds.

* * *

_"...see you soon, dear. I hope the rest of your trip goes well. Rouge, Celly, and Tia send their love. Good night, love. Breha out." _Breha Organa's voice floated through the commlink as she prepared to sign off and retire for the night.

"Yes, and be safe. I love you. Husband, out." Bail switched off the commlink and reclined in the chair, delighted that the talks had gone well, and no further negotiations were due. Thinking of his wife, and their baby that was on the way, his gaze lingered on the sight of Coronet from his window. But a rumble from his stomach woke him from his reverie.

Bail checked the chronometer. It was a half and hour from the time he would usually have dinner. The hotel served some interesting cuisine, but...

Then he thought of the homeless little orphan boy called Han Solo. What a peculiar name - Solo. Still, he had some inclination towards the child. Maybe it was just the feeling of concern one human being should have for one another, but Bail knew that wasn't really it. He felt genuinely curious and sorry for Han's circumstances.

The Alderaanian had enjoyed a steady, fairly good life with a nice roof over his head and caring parents. He knew that he was lucky, and appreciated it. It was hard to see one so young be out alone in the galaxy, and it wasn't right.

Focusing on this, Bail Organa quickly washed his hands and walked out the door. With an idea in his head, he headed to the Capitol Building.

* * *

_It was a warm, sunny day. The air was so fresh that the skies were completely cloudless. Mountains stood off into the distance, a grand-looking Palace with crystal-hued spires lay between them and a river ran through the valley. The rich green grass blew softly in the cool breeze, and Han wondered where he was._

_A gentle hand touched him from behind. It was a girl. She was pretty, with long black hair and olive eyes. If angels existed, Han imagined that they'd look like her. "This is your future, Han. Alderaan."_

_"My future?" His voice was deeper, more grown. At that point, he saw that he was taller and all of his limbs had grown bigger._

_"Yes. But I'm afraid it will not be easy. You will take my place, but you must be careful. Many obstacles lie in the path ahead." The angel girl smiled sadly, as if she knew things he did not._

_"Follow your heart, young one, and it will never fail you." Two small knocks sounded, like the finalization of the statement._

_With her sad smile, the surroundings and angel girl began to fade. "Wait! Come back! What do you mean? Take your place?" He stuck out his hand as if to hold on the vision, but he found it fading away into darkness. "No! Wait..." He called fruitlessly. _

Little Han awoke in the innumerably soft bed. He heard some more knocks from behind the door.

"Hello? Han Solo? Are you in there? Please answer."

Rubbing his eyes from the brief nap, he opened the door a fraction to see a friendly Twi'lek lady standing behind it with a clipboard and head-set. She smiled as he opened the door.

"Hi, I'm Kalyne. Prime Minister Bel Iblis said he would like to speak to you, if you would. They're serving dinner right about now, so if you're ready I can show you the way."

He blinked. At the same time, his stomach growled_. 'Guess I'm kinda hungry_. "Sure. Uh, should I, um..." Was there any proper form of dress code he might be violating? If there was, there wasn't much he could do to help about it.

Kalyne caught his train of thought. "Oh, no. You're just fine. Don't worry about it, because the Prime Minister looked like he would be pleased to see you. Just follow me. You sound like you're hungry."

He complied, quietly stepping behind her as she jabbered away from subject to subject on the turbolift. It made him embarrassed to see her try and make him happy. Of course, he didn't _want _to be uncomfortable, but it was humiliating to see the pity and disgust on people's faces when they saw him.

The resentful emotions soon faded away when they came upon the Bel Iblis' office door. For some reason, Han felt nervous. It was as if he was going up for Judgement Day. Quietly, Kalyne knocked at the door.

A green light on a panel indicated that they were allowed to enter. Following Kalyne almost a yard away, Han took a glance at the Prime Minister's spacious office. Despite the simple nature of the decor, the pieces that had accumulated flowed easily with the design. It only served to make a Han a little more intimidated. but he had learned a long time ago not to care about what anybody else thought.

"Hello, there. That will be all Kalyne, thank you."

Bel Iblis patted Han's shoulder in a paternal manner, and asked him cordially, "Solo, right? Do you think that while you eat, we can discuss a few things?"

Not really seeing that he had much of a choice, the boy shrugged, "Sure."

The two Corellians sat down at a quaint table with some plates and eating utensils. A gray protocol droid approached them with a water pitcher and inquired what they would like to eat from the menu.

Han examined the vast list, not really able to tell what a lot of them said, and even ones that he could read he had never heard of. "Uh...can I have the likryt stew and honeycrust?" They were familiar, at least.

"Yes, sir. Right away."

The droid took the menu and whizzed away to retrieve their orders.

Bel Iblis now looked at Han, preparing to speak. "Han, when was the last time you saw your parents?" Many unwilling parents or mothers simply left their children at orphanages because they could no longer care for them. He wondered whether this was the case.

"I ain't sure. Don't remember 'em too good. When was the last time you saw yours?" Han countered, trying to divert from the subject.

"I see. Alright, well how long have you been living alone, out of the orphanage?"

The boy smiled smugly, "A year."

Bel Iblis frowned, amazed that the boy could stay alive for so long without getting caught before. The thought concerned him greatly, and made him feel more than ever that his predecessor was a fool.

"What would you say to being adopted by a nice family, Han? There are a lot of people who want children but don't have any like Mr. Organa, you know."

That was a new one. Han had never really had a family before, and admittedly, he sometimes wondered what it would be like. No, not sometimes; all the time. He wondered what it would be like to have actual parents, and maybe even siblings. Even though he greatly valued independence, Han imagined himself someday going home to parents. Sometimes, he even entertained the idea that his real parents might still be living.

With all these things floating in front of his mind's eye, Han realized that he should probably answer back.

"I can get on just fine by myself. Don't need no parents. I'm Han _Solo._"

Here came the uneasy part. "Well, Han, I'm afraid I can't just let you live on the street to steal food. Additionally, children are abducted all the time and I think it's best for your sake that you return to the orphanage."

Han leaped out of his chair, protesting loudly. "But I said I'm fine on my own! I don't need no woman lookin' after me! Actually, I hate the orphanage with their rules and their punishments! I don't wanna get beaten up no more!"

"What? Beat up? Who beat you up, son?"

The boy scrunched his nose in displeasure. "The _woman. _At the orphanage. If we made mistakes, she hits us with a stick on our arms and legs. I don't wanna go back! I'd rather starve!"

By his thin frame, it was easy to tell that he really would rather starve than go back. Bel Iblis couldn't believe what he was hearing. He had a mind to rush down to the orphanage and arrest the woman responsible for such a heinous crime.

"Sit down, Han. I'm not sure what we'll do with you then. There are other orphanages, of course. But what you have said is very disturbing. It will have to be investigated." _And the press will have a field day..._

"So I don't gotta go?" He asked hopefully.

"I know that you don't want to go, but there are other orphanages. Maybe you'll even get to go offworld. Would you enjoy that?"

Han sat on the prospect for a few moments, when their food arrived. He ate, bearing the voracious appetite of a hild who has not had a proper meal for a year. Munching on the sweet honeycrust, he spoke.

"Offworld? Like, to...Alderaan?" Han recalled the strange dream he had during his nap, and the girl with her cryptic message.

"Alderaan? I suppose you could. Mr. Organa is from Alderaan. Perhaps he would take you back to his planet."

Is this what the girl had meant? Following a path with obstacles...following his heart. At the moment, his heart seemed to be telling him to go along with this proposal.

"Really? Do you think he'd take me back?"

The droid whizzed past again to retrieve their empty dishes, and before the Prime Minister could reply, the machine on his desk buzzed faintly. Garm walked over to answer it:

"Yes, Kalyne?"

_"Viceroy Organa is here to see you Prime Minister, with a rather interesting request. Are you available at the moment?"_

Bel Iblis glanced at the six-year old sitting at the table. "Yes. Escort him in please."

_"Very well, sir."_

As the machine cut the call, Han queried, "So I can go?"

"Actually Han, Mr. Organa is going to see--" The door was opened to reveal Kalyne with Bail Organa behind her. She dipped her head shortly and then closed the doors again.

"Excuse me Prime Minister Iblis," began Bail, "but--"

"Will you take me back to your planet? Is it all green and does it have mountains?" Han interrupted rather unceremoniously.

Bail smiled. He knew Breha wouldn't particularly like it, but somehow he felt compelled toward this little six-year old Corellian. "Ah. That's what I have come here to talk about. Han Solo, how would you like to live with me and my wife in the Palace on Alderaan?"


	3. New Life, New Opportunity

Feeling slightly nervous about all of this business, Bail pondered aloud: "Do you think he will be truly happy?"

Bel Iblis looked at the Viceroy, thinking the obvious answer. "Of course! Other than gaining a better lifestyle, he'll be with you Alderaanians; just give him enough time to adjust to the change. Besides, he is a Corellian - shouldn't that say something for him? Loyal, fierce, and loud."

"All the forms and certificates will be finished and processed by tomorrow afternoon, and then you have full custody and guardianship over Han. After your people complete their side of the work, little Solo will be an Alderaanian with dual-Corellian citizenship. By the way," Bel Iblis commented as an afterthought, "are you planning on changing the boy's name?"

"No. I believe it would be too much change, and unnecessary. It his one of the only things that he solely possesses and it would be wrong to take it from him. Anyway, 'Han Organa' doesn't exactly flow as well as 'Han Solo', don't you agree, Prime Minister?"

* * *

Fumbling with the spare change of clothes in his small tote bag, Han anxiously followed Kalyne to the lobby, where Bail Organa, his new legal guardian would be waiting. The halls bustled with busy people, all going from one place to another to get work accomplished. Usually, Han would feel inferior by all of these people who had purpose. But today, he felt just like he imagined _they _did; he had a destination, he had a drive to reach it, and the path leading to it all was unfurling before him.

Ever since that fateful encounter two nights ago, Han had felt a sort of reassurance that indicated, somehow, he had a power over his own life. It enabled him to make choices for himself - it was the greatest, purest feeling of freedom and new found independence from the previous grief and confusion.

An orphan for as long as he could remember, all Han had known from the world was neglect, anger, frustration, and fear: During his years at the orphanage, the staff had always overlooked him and pushed him around like another sheep in a round of cattle; while a beggar child on the street, the citizens of all races and creeds would pass by either without a single look, or sneer with disgust. Very few took pity, and even when they did, it was humiliating.

In the face of a new opportunity, he was willing to forget about that life, because it would no longer be his fate. The same orphan of the street had gained a confidence and optimism the could not - would not - be daunted by the mere follies and vices of others. And so the story began when Han and Bail escorted each other out the door of the Capitol Building.

An awkward sort of silence was held over the pair, each unsure of what to say as to give off a good impressionas they drove the hovercar to the hotel. Finally, Han spoke up, tired of feeling afraid of what to say.

"Are you married? Sir?"

"Yes, I am. And call me Bail, please. After all, we will be living together."

Han resisted the urge to exhale in relief. Instead, he asked, "Er, Bail. . .do you have any kids?" He couldn't remember what the Prime Minister guy had said about that. He hoped that Bail didn't have any kids, because it might be weird if he would have to meet them, wouldn't it? What if they were older? Or worse, younger?

A shadow seemed to cross Organa's face at the mention of children, and his body tensed slightly. "No, Han. We have tried to have our own children, but until a few months ago, we haven't had any successes. Now Breha is expecting in about six months."

"Oh. Uh, okay." Han refrained from talking about it again, because he just didn't get all that fuss people made about babies. In addition, he really didn't have any experience with parental joy, so he was grateful when Bail changed the subject.

"Han, have you ever gone to school?"

"Yeah. At the orf-or-place, they made us do lessons. But I didn't like it, because they was always shoutin' at us if we're doin' somethin' wrong, and if we misbehave, the teacher'd smack us on the hand with her stick and make us stand in the corner. 'Sides, only thing I learned was how to aim spitballs."

It was astounding how such horrid experiences could be combined with humor when concerning Han. But nonetheless, Bail thought that some things should be clarified as to living arrangements. "That is truly terrible, Han. I'm afraid that on Alderaan, you _will_ have to have lessons. But," he continued, seeing the defiant look on the child' face, "we do not allow our teachers to hit the students in any way - it is against the law. I want you to give school a chance and if that doesn't work out, we can get you a tutor. Alright?"

Han held his mouth open slightly, ready to protest. Taking a second in retrospect, he conceded that if he was to live with this man, he would have to follow by his rules. For the most part, at least. "Well...okay. But if I don't like it, I ain't goin'."

"I'll agree to that. But I anticipate that you'll excel in your studies." _Hopefully one of them being Basic grammar..._

Anticipate? What'd that mean? "Sure."

There was one more thing nagging at Bail's thought process: How would his people react to this? Would they resent a Corellian? Most Alderaanians would try to be open-minded about such things, but you could never be sure about people.

He figured it would be best to yield another warning. "Han, make sure that when we arrive, you let me do most of the explaining. People on my planet are going to be a little surprised and cautious until they get acquainted with you, so let's give them a good impression, okay?"

"Uh...sure." Han wasn't completely fond of inquisitive crowds anyway. If they left him alone to his own terms, he couldn't care less.


	4. Settling In, Knowing All

"There. That is Alderaan." Bail pointed at the serene blue and green planet below from his stance at the viewport.

Han, who had never been on a space ship before, pressed his face hard against the window to squint, as if trying to locate the bustling citizens below.

An attending droid came by to alert the passengers that they would be entering the atmosphere to land shortly. Despite his confidence, Han was still a little anxious to be entering a new environment. He hoped that they wouldn't give him too many orders, or completely neglect him. He also secretly hoped that somewhere close by, there would be another boy his age, who he could play with. Being "Solo" was great, but at only six years of age, he needed a companion, and maybe a father, something he definitely would never admit.

As the _Tantive IV, _lowered to the docking bay, three elaborately dressed women were standing by, awaiting the passengers.

"Ah, my sisters. Those three women there, Han, are Rouge, Celly and Tia Organa." Bail felt as if he should warn the boy on exactly what to say, but disregarded the thought. His sisters would just have to deal with Han the way he was for now.

As he looked at his sisters from the viewport, however, he noticed their peculiar manner of dress. They were shrouded completely in black, which could only mean. . .

Bail rushed from the ship and out the barely-descended ramp. Rouge, slim and tall, met her brother's eyes as he placed gentle hands upon her shoulders.

"What has gone wrong? Breha - she's not--"

She shook her head. "No, brother. The Queen is well, but. . . she has miscarried."

He seemed to understand, and muttered to his sisters quietly. Before leaving, he told Captain Antilles to take Han to a new room, close to Nial's.

Curiosity piqued, Han asked, "What's goin' on?"

After a moment of consideration, Raymus replied, "Queen Breha, my sister, is ill. I'm sorry that they didn't get a chance to introduce you. Come, Han."

Several floors up, the Captain led him down a hall and through a door three times Han's size. The door, in turn, opened to a bedroom as big as the old orphanage classroom.

"Do you like it?"

The six year old was in awe. The floor was solid wood, covered in a lush area rug with a leafy pattern. Two long windows, covered by some plain blue drapes, encompassed the upper half of the east- and north-facing walls. In the space between the two windows, there appeared to be study area, equipped with a desk, chairs, bookshelf, and storage compartment. To the other end of the room lay a huge, comfy-looking bed covered with blue and gray pillows, covers, blankets, and sheets. To the left of the bed was a large chest, presumably for toys; and to the right, a nightstand under a lamp and chrono.

Observing all this, Han said a little excitedly, "Yeah! It's ginormous!"

"Well, I'll leave you to it then. The refresher," he pointed to a door on the right side of the bed, "is there. The closet," he pointed again, to a door opposite the refresher, "is there. If you've got any questions, there's a comm unit at your desk."

"Hey, thanks a bunch!"

With that, Raymus left, and Han jumped right onto the bed.

This is awesome!

Even better, he discovered, there were already a few items inside the toy chest: a stuffed Ewok doll, three model Alderaanian ships, and an art set.

The closet was sparse with clothes, but Han found it rather satisfactory, considering its large size. It even had a ceiling light!

In the desk area, he found numerous writing utensils, sheets of flimsy, and three or four datapads. On the floor was his favorite seat – a squishy bean bag-like seat that had wheels and revolved.

Han also found the bathroom to be fun, filled with all types of strange soaps, oils, and lotions. The sink and tub were pristine white porcelain with silver-colored faucets. His shower, enclosed by glass doors, had several different buttons and was decorated in the same sort of bluish-gray tile as the counter. A huge, etched mirror-cabinet was set into the wall behind the sink.

As he opened said mirror, he jumped when he saw the reflection of another boy.

"Hi," he said simply.

Calming slowly, Han replied, "Hi. Uh, who are you?"

"I'm Nial, you?"

"Han Solo."

"Solo? That's wizard. My last name is Organa. I'm Tia's son. You're new. Auntie Breha said so. She said that we could be friends. Want to?"

"Sure thing," answered Han, who was beginning to like Nial.

"Wizard. And my room's really close to yours, too. Are you feeling hungry? When was the last time you ate? I can show you around, because it's really easy to get lost here. I've done it quite a lot, and I've lived here all my life. Isn't that funny?"

He laughed. Han found himself laughing as well.

* * *

_Two months later_

Han Solo woke in the morning, feeling extremely spry and restless. Opening the window, he breathed the fresh, cool air and remembered that Bail was having a Senatorial meeting today, and that Nial was still gone on vacation with his mother.

Still, he resolved that he might just take the summer morning to eat a nice breakfast, and go for a walk. He could talk to Captain Antilles if he was available.

Han found that this was often the trouble that came with his prestigious adoptive family. Though they all liked him, and allowed him plenty of free reign, they were always very busy with something. Bail was always involved with matters of the Senate while Breha solely governed Alderaan's problems, and Captain Antilles was often away, flying ships.

Rouge and Celly were nice enough, but he thought that they were rather stuck up and boring to talk to. Tia sometimes had amusing things to say, a trait which she had passed onto her son, but she usually stuck with her sisters. If not, she would then baby-talk to her pittins, Taffy, Winky, and Fluffy.

As he combed his hair briefly in front of the mirror, Han remembered that he would be starting school with Nial in two weeks time. Nial had assured him that it wasn't all that bad, as long as you didn't break the rules or be rude to the teacher. Han felt sure that school, in that respect, would be easy.

Something that troubled him, which he had not told to a soul, was that he was afraid of not knowing anything that the teacher would talk about. After all, he had never had a proper education - could he keep good grades?

With this on his mind, Han took the turbolift down several floors below and loped into the family dining room. Breha, Rouge, and Bail were already sitting. Celly, in one of her usual bouts of hypochondria, had taken breakfast in her room.

"Good morning Han," said Bail. His wife waved in greeting while she chewed on toast.

"Hey, 'morning." He settled down to a seat and a droid brought him a bowl of flaky cereal with a jar of milk.

"Did you comb your hair this morning?"

Remembering to swallow before talking, he told Rouge, "Yep. Anything wrong?" He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Rouge _always _found something wrong with his hair. It was too flat, too frizzy, too--

"It's scruffy-looking. I don't think you combed properly."

Irked, he asked, "What's scruffy-lookin'?"

She sighed dramatically. "Never mind, dear boy."

He supposed she just didn't feel like debating it today. Nonetheless, he finished eating shortly and excused himself. An hour or two later, walking leisurely down the hall, he caught sight of a harried-looking brunette. She looked a little familiar, like she came from a holo he'd seen. Right now, she looked a little sick.

"Are you okay?" He called. She turned, a little alarmed, no doubt.

"I. . . I'm just looking for the 'fresher." Embarrassed, she blushed.

Han walked over to her. "I can show you where it is. I know it pretty well now. I'm Han Solo, by the way."

They shook hands. "Padme Amidala. Nice to meet you."

She thanked him as he directed her to a door on her left. Though she was smiling, Han thought that Padme was a little green, nauseous. He had a queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach that she was vomiting in there. When she came out five minutes later, she looked more stressed and nervous than before.

"Something wrong?" Her eyes, which were brown and warm, looked intensely frightened. Both of her hands were placed conspicuously about her stomach.

Padme was silent as she lowered onto a seat around the corner.

"Puking is pretty gross. But you'll feel all right soon."

She seemed not to hear him.

"You havin' a kid or somethin'? I heard that people puke a lot for some reason when they have kids. And you're holding your tummy."

She snapped back to reality.

"What? No. . . that can't be. I mean, well, can you keep this our secret, Han?"

"Sure thing." Padme brightened with relief.

"Thank you. Now since you've already helped me, can you also show me where Bail Organa's office is?"

Han leapt off the chair, grabbing her hand and running into the turbolift. As they ascended, he said, "Just asking, but why would you wanna keep your kids secret? Most people love tellin' everybody about their kids."

She fidgeted uncomfortably. "Everybody would not want to know, I'm afraid. Some people. . . do not want me to have this child. Because they think that it is wrong."

Han didn't understand completely. "But that's stupid! It ain't wrong to be havin' kids, as long as ya can take care of 'em right."

The turbolift opened. Walking out, Padme answered with a slight smile. "You're a clever young man, Han Solo. Thank you again, I think I can find it now."

He grinned lopsidedly, reminding her of Anakin. "Thanks! Hope to see ya 'round."

"Me too."

After Padme went inside the conference room, Han lingered a few moments before turning back and walking leisurely. Padme Amidala. He would have to remember her. He knew that he wouldn't forget.


	5. Arrivals and Departures

"Stabilizers up…full power to the shield… Fire! Fire at the hull!" Han murmured in his sleep as Nial shook his shoulder.

"Han, wake up! Han!" They were in the middle of Alderaanian Language Arts class.

"Hyperdrive! Huh, whazgonnon?" He awoke noisily, and the teacher, a middle-aged, blond woman, strode over to his seat.

"Mr. Solo. That's the second time this week. Is something wrong, or do you really find this class so boring?" The sole of her shiny black shoes tapped impatiently on the tiled floor in a school-marmish manner.

Han blinked, still half-asleep. "Poetry don't make no sense, miss."

Miss Tae replied, exasperated. "Class is dismissed, except for Mr. Solo."

Han's head slumped back down to the table as the rest of his classmates cleared out for the end of the day. Once they had all gone, except for Nial, who was probably waiting outside, the teacher told him sternly:

"You may not like literature Han, but if you keep falling asleep I will _have _to give you detention. Do you understand that?"

He nodded. She continued.

"Then will you please try to stay awake and pay attention? I do not want to have to fail you, Han. You're a smart boy, and this is the only subject you struggle with. I'm letting it slide this time, but if it happens again, you'll be staying after class every day for a month, writing paragraphs and reciting poetry."

Han seemed to be more alert now.

"Sure, I'll try. I can't guarantee much, but I really don't wanna have more homework."

"Good." She smiled, and then allowed him to leave.

As Han had expected, Nial was right outside the door. "Hey! What'd she do to you?"

"Nothing. She was pretty easy on me. Remind me never to fall asleep again." The seven year old swung his satchel over his shoulder.

"I _did _remind you."

The two boys walked out into the front of the building, putting on their coats. The air was refreshingly crisp and chilly, their breaths visible as swirling wisps of smoke. They waited for their ride to come for them, talking about what they would do once they got home. Nial wanted to finish the science homework, and wouldn't Han help him? Only on the condition that Nial assisted him with Lit. homework.

Once back in the Palace, they went to greet Breha, who looked worried.

"Something wrong?" Han sat down next to her on the sofa.

"Bail brings some troubling news in the Senate, that's all. It appears that even though the war is almost over, the fighting is still going strong in the Republic itself. Don't worry Han," she said, noting his confused expression. "Things may soon be set right."

Even though she said it with a smile, Han could tell that she really didn't believe what she was saying. He left her in peace, and took her advice not to worry about it. Nonetheless, he felt tensions rising in the following months.

He knew how hard the war was on everyone, but while most said –even that old guy Bail had said was Chancellor- that the war would be over in two or three months tops, there were whispers. The war might _never _end; or, the Separatists would win.

As time continued to pass, even Han grew worried, though he did not understand the entirety of the situation.

Quarterly break came around; Han and Nial stayed in the confines of the Palace, feeling just a little anxious, because Bail's Senate meetings on Coruscant had been getting longer and longer.

Eventually they turned on the Holonet, and were surprised to find "breaking news" on all of the channels. They were further surprised when reading the headlines.

"_This is breaking news from Chancellor Palpatine's office…" _said the Talz reporter.

"_The Supreme Chancellor's aide, Mas Amedda, will now tell us the story. Mister Amedda, can you please tell us more about the situation with the Jedi and the Separatists?"_

A Chagrian appeared on the screen. _"It is apparent that the Jedi have been in a plot to destroy the Republic all along. The Separatists were also the work of the Jedi, as the late Count Dooku had been a member of the Order shortly before he rallied the systems together. We are learning more and more of this insidious planning as the minutes go by. As of right now, the Jedi are being tracked down and the Separatists leaders have been apprehended. But we may rejoice because the war is now over, and no one need worry."_

His image faded off the screen and flashed to a live recording of a Senate meeting. That Palpatine person was making a speech or some kind. He looked uglier than usual, thought Han.

"_And the Jedi rebellion has been foiled. The remaining Jedi will be hunted down and defeated! The attempt on my life has left me scarred... and deformed, but I assure you, my resolve has never been stronger! In order to ensure the security and continuing stability, the Republic will be reorganized into the First Galactic Empire! For a safe, and secure, society._"

_"And that was. . . Emperor? What? What is this, I--"_

The screen went blank. Breha was behind them, holding the remote. She was gripping it so hard, her knuckles were white.

"What's wrong, Breha?"

Silence. She stared furiously at the screen, shaking in disbelief and rage.

_Liberty is dead, and they applaud._

Finally, she said, "Everything and more. Please…go play and don't watch the holo. I must contact Bail at once."

She left, and the boys were still rather confused. Was it something that that man had said?

Was it this Galactic Empire? All they understood was that he wanted people to believe the Jedi were bad, and were going to die. But why would they need to die?

"But the Jedi are cool! They shouldn't be hunted, 'cause they're the good guys."

"I know, but I heard Uncle Bail saying that the Chancellor didn't like them too much. And you just heard what he said – the Galactic Empire, which means that now he's the Emperor."

"Doesn't that mean he's a dictorship?"

"Dictatorship, yeah. Now he can do whatever he wants."

"That's really, really, bad. Farkling."

"What?"

"Corellian."

Looking out the window, they saw the sun set on the purple-hued mountains. The room became dark, and Han was sure that they -the galaxy- was indeed, farkled.

* * *

Sometime the next afternoon, the _Tantive IV _landed. Han and Nial had waited on the platform since breakfast time, while Breha had been contacting her brother non-stop, staying up all night. Now she was pacing back and forth on a nearby terrace. Every now and then, she would sit down, only to jump back up again, murmuring words under her breath.

It was Han who caught sight of the familiar Corvette bursting into the atmosphere, just seconds after it had been cleared for landing.

"Look!" He shouted, pointing to the sky.

Raymus Antilles exited first, followed by Bail, who was cradling a bundle of blankets in his arms. He swept past them, immediately going to his wife.

"What is that?" Nial was jumping up and down, trying to see what Bail had been holding.

"You'll find out soon," replied the Captain solemnly.

From inside the ship, Han heard someone talking from inside the ship.

"How I do detest space travel. Oh, thank goodness, solid ground."

There were some mechanical beeps and sputters, obviously a droid of some kind. Maybe a pair of droids.

"Oh, really? I was not aware that we are serving under nobility. Master Antilles," said the shiny golden protocol droid as it tottered down the ramp, "how may I be of assistance?"

Before Raymus could answer, Han said loudly, "Hey, Goldenrod - who are you?" Nial nudged Han in the ribs.

The protocol didn't seem to notice. "I am See-Threepio, human-cyborg relations. I am fluent in over six million forms of communication and am programmed with--"

"Who's the astromech?" See-Threepio was almost as bad as poetry class.

"That is Artoo-Detoo, sir." 'He' seemed a little irked that he had been interrupted. Artoo, however, beeped something.

"What's he saying?"

"He says he is pleased to meet you, and we are wondering exactly, who are you, sir?"

"I'm Han Solo. This is Nial Organa," Han pointed to his friend.

"Hello." Nial waved to both droids.

"Why hello Master Nial. I am See-Threepio, human-cyborg--"

"Oh, brother," Han said under his breath. He left Nial to the new droids in order to see where Bail had gone.


	6. The New Princess

**A/N: 'Sorry about the long gap between updates, reviews are, as always, appreciated.**

* * *

When Han reached Bail and Breha, they were huddled over the bundle of blankets, smiling. That was when he realized that they were, in fact, looking at something _inside _of the blankets.

Sure of the 'object' lying inside, Han moved forward slowly, a feeling of dread gathering in his stomach. Another kid? Why, and from where this time?

"Han, come meet your little sister. Her name is Leia."

Ew - it was a girl, no less. He was going to have to live with a girl.

All doubts and feelings of reproach Han had been forming for the infant Leia faded when he saw her smiling face. Even if it was wrinkled, bald, toothless, and completely round, it was the perfect picture of adorable.

Before he had actually thought about what he was doing, the seven-year-old tentatively reached out to touch the soft skin of the baby's forehead. He was taken aback when the infant raised her miniscule hand and grasped two of his fingers (all she could fit in her own hand) tightly.

Though surprised, Han grinned back at his exuberant "little sister." By the look in her tiny brown eyes, he could tell that being her big brother wouldn't be so bad.

As if in agreement to his thoughts, Leia gurgled happily.

* * *

"Han, did you brush your hair properly? I don't think you did - here, let me--"

The almost-eight year old dived out of the way like a cornered animal, completing his sidestep by sliding his shoes on the shining white marble floor. Rouge Organa made a face as she saw her tactic fail, the gelled comb ready to drip.

"I _did _brush properly! What's wrong with my hair this time? Yer always sayin' somethin's wrong with it. Sheesh, I ain't stupid!"

His "aunt" drew herself up so she was standing at full height - in other words, much taller than the gangly Corellian.

"How many times have I told you not to say - not to say --" she struggles with the word as if it were an offensive profanity in a foreign tongue.

Crossing his arms defiantly, as well as standing erect, Han firmly told her, "_Ain't. _I'll say it if I wanna. You _ain't _gonna stop me. My hair looks fine! Just 'cause your hair is all fancy and pretty don't mean my hair has to be too. I like it the way it is, Aunt Rouge."

The hidden complement certainly softened her stance. Eyeing him shrewdly for a few moments, her lips pursed, she finally acquiesced with a heavy sigh. "Oh, all right. Run along then, before I change my mind."

Han barely hid his smirk of satisfaction when he turned on his heel and walked as fast as possible without running. He was in such a hurry that he had almost forgotten the correct turn to make to get to the main ballroom chamber.

Today the Royal House of Organa had invited several hundred other important Alderaanian and off-world figures to a party in honor of their new child. Furthermore, the baby girl being presented to the galaxy had officially adopted the name "Organa," making her heiress to the throne of her mother.

It was one of the harder things that Han had been told to understand. Leia would be made Princess of Alderaan, even though she hadn't been born to Breha. Even though he had agreed to pretend that Leia was a flesh and blood relative, he still didn't get why they had to lie about it.

But, as far as he could see, it was just better to go along with it.

The bigger problem at hand, other than his altercations with Aunt Rouge and Aunt Celly about his appearance, was the mass of people that would be attending this party. Not that he was afraid of them, no, but just that he didn't want to be man-handled by dozens of different people who he'd be required to meet as an adoptive child of the Organas.

He thought about that intimidating business as the turbolift ticked down from floor to floor until at last, the bottom level. As the door opened and Han stepped out cautiously in his blue-grey tuxedo-esque suit, he took a deep breath and decided to look forward to the good food.

"Why hello, Master Han," greeted See-Threepio, his golden casing so clean that in the lights, people were susceptible to temporary blindness.

Blinking a few times, "Oh, yeah, hey there Goldenrod." 'Goldenrod' was a nickname that Han had come up with soon after Threepio had arrived in the household. Even though the droid was often assigned to accompany Captain Antilles with his other droid friend, Artoo, Threepio and Han met frequently.

This was due, in part, to the increasing amount of time that Han spent next to the docking and port areas. Han found that Threepio was just so much more identifiable by his casing that he could call him 'Goldenrod.' After all, the droid didn't seem to mind anyway.

"You look very well today, Master Han, as if you've had a good cleaning," commented Threepio.

Unsure of how to reply, the boy answered, "Uh, thanks. Um. . . D'you know where Bail is? I just thought of somethin' and wanna ask him about it."

"Why _yes, _Master Han. To my knowledge, the Viceroy Organa is consulting with Miss Retrac about the party arrangements. They were in the kitchens. But if you have any questions, I would certainly be able to answer them, sir."

"Er, no thanks. You wouldn't know what I'm talkin' about, for sure. See ya, Goldenrod!" Han left the poor droid in haste.

The idea that had just occurred to Han was a memory of the woman Padme. Surely, she would have been invited to this thing too, right? She was one of those important people, a Senator, maybe, that Bail would have wanted at an important gathering. And if Han had his science right, she should have had her baby by now.

Regardless, he thought it a worthy subject to bring up, just to make sure. Han thought it would be great to see her again, especially because it would give him someone to talk to.

The kitchens were southeast of the grand ballroom, so Han wandered until he smelled the aroma of steamed vegetables, roasting ribenes, and fresh bread. He didn't think his nose could soak up enough of it.

As always, Threepio was a reliable source of information albeit a rather drawn-out one. Bail and a heavily pregnant Sheltay Retrac were hunched over a holographic diagram of what Han presumed to be the seating for the dining area.

"Right here, remember, you'll come in, make your speech, and then Princess Leia will be brought out."

"But no close contact," he seemed to be reminding his aide. The two adults didn't notice him come up. He had learned in the past few months that it was just better to be patient. Eventually, they would see him.

"Yes, sir. I've remembered everything. You just remember your speech, and leave it to me. It will all be fine." She seemed to be ready to wrap it up, shutting off the hologram with a tap on the projector.

"Hello, Han. You look handsome - are you excited?" Sheltay asked.

"Oh, thanks. I guess. A bit."

The brunette smiled, laying a hand on her rotund belly, then said, "Well, have fun tonight, okay? See you, Han." She left, tapping one of her earphones busily.

"Is there something you wanted to ask me, Han?" Bail began walking away from the kitchens, leading his adoptive child away with him.

"Yeah. I was just wondering if you invited this one lady. . . "

Bail glanced at him. "Who? A friend of yours?"

Han found himself looking down at the ground. "Not really. But she was a nice person, and I saw her before in the Palace. Padme Amidala - didja get her to come?"

A shadow looked as though it had passed over the Alderaanian ruler's face; his jaw clenched, his brow creased dissatisfiedly, and a vein in his temple noticeably tensed.

"Han, I don't know how to tell you this. . . lightly, but Senator Padme Amidala. . . passed away. Last month."

Despite the fact that Han had known her very little, her warm personality had left an impression on his mind as a truly kindred spirit. To learn that he would never again experience her kind nature gave him an odd sensation of loss he had never before felt.

Han felt a soreness rise in his throat - before he could stop himself, a couple of salty tears leaked out silently from his hazel eyes.

"Oh, Han," Bail knelt down to face him eye-to-eye, hands on both of his shoulders. "I'm sorry."

Nodding slowly, he asked in a somewhat shaky voice, "What about her baby? She was gonna have a baby, but she said not to tell anybody. 'Guess it won't matter if I ask now, does it?"

There was no reply for a few long moments. Bail was taken aback as Han continued to reveal more of his knowledge about Padme's situation.

"The baby died, Han. Her son died with her," he added for extra measure, feeling even guiltier than before. Without any more words, the seven year old embraced his adoptive father, trembling in an attempt not to cry anymore. It was strange, he thought, that he could care so much for the death of a woman he'd spent a few minutes with, but he hadn't thought about his own parent's fate in two years.

"There are those rare people that give us lasting impressions. Like Padme.

"But the important thing is to remember her as she always was - a compassionate woman who wanted the best for everyone."

Wiping away at the moisture on his face, Han sniffled one last time. "I know."

In an attempt to brighten both the boy's and his own mood, Bail said, "Come - we've got a party to attend."


	7. Family Life

**A/N: Another chapter! And not several weeks apart! Please review.**

* * *

"Goodnight, Han."

In the midst of a slightly sorrowful day, a huge party full of diplomats, entertainers, and the like, Han Solo was completely worn out.

"'Night, Breha. Tell Leia goodnight for me," he replied, shuffling back to his room, flat-footed. He was half undressed by the time he had reached his door, more than eager to leap into bed and call it a day. He smiled weakly when he laid eyes on his bed.

A few minutes later, and he was tucked securely between the down feather comforter and pillows, his small body sinking into the mattress. However, Han soon discovered that he was not able to find sleep. Feeling as sluggish as ever, he crossed his arms behind his head in a casual manner, and tried to get himself to "count the nerfs" as Aunt Tia was always saying.

On nerf number thirty-seven, which he imagined to have gray stripes and orange flecks in its fur, Han didn't feel the difference. As a matter of fact, he felt more and more awake with each outrageously patterned nerf.

It was in his boredom that he noticed a small patch of silver moonlight cast across his floor, illuminating the wing of a toy starfighter that he had left there. Han stared, fixated, at the brightness that looked as though it were conveying a great sadness. The very shade of the moonshine was just. . . Indescribably melancholy.

A fresh amount of his interest piqued, Han ventured over to the window that the light was coming from. It was months before when Han had realized the brilliant view that he had - a lake, expansive and wonderfully clear, was spread far out between the mountains. If ever he looked through the window, it allowed him to see every inch of the glassy lake which conveniently enough reflected the moon.

Tonight, Han observed, the moon was a crescent, having just passed over new moon a few nights ago. The thin sliver was beautiful to him in a strange kind of way, because it rippled slowly on the lake below. The constance of it all was somehow comforting.

It was comforting, really, because of the fact that neither the lake, nor the moon, nor the snow-capped mountain peaks would be disappearing soon. Each of them came back every morning and every night. Han liked knowing that they would never change, always stay. He liked that the moon, no matter where you saw it from, was the same, and that the mountains were always in precisely one direction.

He only wished the people could be the same way.

* * *

It had been weeks since Leia's "announcement" party, and she had quickly proved that she was difficult child in some of the strangest areas. She refused to nap, preferring to play or roam around the nursery long hours into the night. She was fussy about diaper changes, which was why Bail had personally assigned Threepio the job. Leia seemed to take a liking to the droid that Han could not understand.

Other than late nights and a lack of normal sleep, Leia was cooperative and an overall pleasing child. Yet at the times when she did go to sleep, it was never very peaceful for very long. When Han saw Breha or Bail in the morning, both looked slightly more haggard than they had the previous day, mostly caused by the intense, and yet unexplained, bouts of crying Leia sometimes had during the night.

Every night since the party, Leia would suddenly awaken in the middle of the night, screaming and crying. At the worst of times, Han could hear the fuss going on a floor above him as people scurried to hush the little Princess. No one, least of all Han, understood why the baby had such inconsolable episodes.

Hence, today was the day a specialist would be examining Leia's condition, and hopefully prescribing a treatment. Doctor Cerean, a child specialist of some sort, arrived an hour after breakfast. Han though that he looked far older than Bail, probably into his sixties, and was mostly bald, a small patch of white hair gathering behind his ears and above the nape of his neck. Despite his lack of hair on his head, there was enough to make up for it in his eyebrows, mustache, and cropped beard.

The entire family was present when the doctor was conducting his examination. Leia made not a sound as he lit up her nostrils, mouth, and ears. She was always a good child in front of those she didn't know.

"Physically, Your Majesty, the Princess is as healthy as ever. I think that the root of the problem lies in her mind," stated Cerean without thinking who he was in the presence of.

"Whaddaya mean?" Han snapped, "She ain't crazy!"

Even though the Organas hushed him, they seemed to agree.

"No, no! No, of course not! What I mean to say, is that maybe she is, pardon me, having "nightmare" from a severe memory or trauma. Some child psychologists have researched certain theories that some babies can carry memories from the womb or of their parents. Some of the more dubious sources believe that infants can even remember things from "heaven," if there is one.

"Of course, that's quite far fetched. However, it is plausible that Her Highness _does _recall some things while in the womb. Perhaps if there was stress inflicted on Your Majesty while you carried her?" He addressed Breha now.

There was a pause as the Queen thought through her stories quickly. "Of course there were stressful times, doctor. Do you really think that this is the cause of Princess Leia's nighttime episodes?"

Cerean stroked his beard contemplatively for a moment. "Yes. Yes, I do. Unfortunately there's no definite treatment for this sort of subconscious thing, especially for a child as young as Her Highness. But at the same time, I don't think that you'll really need to worry about that much longer. These nightmares of hers should fade within a few months, if not a few weeks.

"The best thing, I think, would be feeding the Princess traditional sedative herbs in some sort of formula. I'll compose a list of things."

"Thank you very much, Doctor."

"Of course, Your Highness."

* * *

Throughout the session, Han had been thoroughly skeptical of the doctor and his theories. What kind of hokey business did he run anyway? Sadly, Han had been assured by Bail and Breha that the doctor knew what he was doing.

"Grown ups," Han mumbled under his breath as the rest of the family left. Nial, who was still in the room, heard his friend's quiet scoffing.

"Yeah, I know," the other boy shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe the doctor's right."

"Whatever. I don't think any herbs are gonna help, that's all." He ventured over to Leia's crib. Her round brown eyes looked at him with an amused kind of curiosity. When he gently ran his fingers across her stomach, she giggled adorably.

"Hey, Princess." It was the name he'd gotten used to calling her, firstly because it was a kind of nickname for girls, and second because it was her true title. Leia smiled toothlessly, her arm flailing enthusiastically. "You try to sleep better, huh?"

"You hungry?" Nial's stomach growled. Han started laughing - they'd had breakfast a few hours ago.

"You must have a black hole for a stomach. Sure, I'll get a snack. Maybe Goldenrod will let me have some honeycrust."

"But Master Han, I have heard honeycrust is not healthy for your teeth," Nial said in a high, girly voice. "I do not want to allow you to get cavities, because after all, it is in my programming to serve humans and understand their behavior, along with being a total nerfherder!"

Han was laughing at Nial's almost perfect impression of Threepio all the way down to the kitchens.


	8. Winter Fete

A thick blanket of snow covered the whole of Alderaan in early winter. The festival week would be arriving soon, which meant a smaller work load for everyone, and despite the dark times in the galaxy, everyone was still inclined to relax on the traditional holiday.

Weeks of school seemed to pass by effortlessly as both Han and Nial became immersed in school work. Before they knew it, the winter holidays had come, and they could finally have some real fun for an entire two weeks. As for Leia, the doctor had been right and wrong on a few counts. Though the nightmares had digressed as time went, the herbs and techniques he had told them to try were to no avail.

Yet the bright side was that instead of every night, it had finally decreased to once or twice a week as Leia had lived with the Organas. Han was as dutiful a big brother as ever, taking time out of the evenings to play with her a bit, do his homework with her around, or sometimes even feed her. He preferred not doing the last one for it was something of a messy business, especially when pureed vegetables were involved.

Nonetheless, Han Solo thought himself quite lucky, with barely anything except a low grade in Alderaanian literature to complain about. But honestly, he _was _getting better - he still didn't understand the difference between prose and normal fiction.

Gerunds, prepositions, and predicates aside, Han was fully prepared to enjoy his first ever celebration of Winter Fete. Nial had been telling him stories about year's past when sports like skiing, snowboarding, and ice-skating were all the rage. Festival foods like citros snow cake and hot chocolate were eaten during the week, and other fun Alderaanian customs were observed, including the giving and receiving of presents, poetry, and music.

Needles to say, Han was excited at the prospect of such an exciting break.

"Come on, Han, I'm going to teach you how to ski!"

Of the many wintery activities, skiing, what Han understood to be like sledding down a mountain standing up, was the one that Nial was most avid about teaching. He had insisted, since the first snow, that the sport was something his friend would definitely enjoy, and that they would go as soon as their schedules would permit.

Today was the day. Equipped with skis, poles, protective gear, and clothing required for the chill of Alderaanian winter, the Organas loaded even more luggage into the vehicle that would take them to one of the expensive lodges residing on the side of the mountain. The entire family would spend the weekend there for the various winter sports.

Wrapped in a heavy navy parka and an accompanying scarf, Han trudged through inches of snow and onto the boarding ramp of the ship, shivering despite his heavy coverings.

"Never. . . This. . . Cold. . . Before. . ." he muttered under his breath. Certainly, Corellia had never even gotten close to the frigidity of a day in Alderaan's winter.

Although cold, Han had to admit that this was turning out to be rather fun anyway. The snow, even though it was extremely chilly and, as he had learned, made your hand reddish and numb if you held it too long, was thoroughly enjoyable to play with as long as one had warm clothes on.

Han's body gave another involuntary shiver as he sat in one of the heated seats of the ship. Nial plopped down next to him with a toothy smile.

"Wanna play some holochess?"

"Sure."

* * *

Han groaned. He didn't want to have to get up, and do it all over again. Not a chance.

"C'mon, Han! Everybody messes up their first time!" Someone, an eight year old someone, was poking him in the torso. He still didn't want to get up.

"Not their first nine times, they don't." The cold was starting to get into his clothes. That was just too bad. He was _not _going to get up and do that again.

"Huh, well, you'll learn, I promise!"

Nothing.

"Okay, fine. Have it your way. But at least get up and go inside. You're gonna freeze out here, Han." More poking eventually aroused Han from his spot in the snow. Grumpily, the boy drooped his ski supplies over his shoulder and began walking away from the mountain, leaving Captain Antilles, Bail, and Nial on the slopes. He would happily wait inside with Breha and Leia. Skiing just wasn't his thing.

Threepio was hobbling around the entrance when Han entered the winter cabin.

"Why hello Master Han," the droid greeted.

"Hey," he mumbled. Shaking the snow, ice, and slush off with his boots, Han hung his outerwear and skiing supplies onto a rack and left them to dry before running upstairs on his gray socks.

Breha was in her room, reading while she rocked Leia gently in her crib.

"Hello, Han. Why are you back so early? I would have though that Nial would be holding you hostage out there for another few hours." She smiled, inserting a bookmark and putting her novel on a nearby stand. Han sunk into one of the cushioned armchairs, feeling the ache in his back and rear slowly melt away.

"Well he tried to. But after landin' on my butt nine times, I think he gave up. I hate skiing."

"Don't say that so soon, Han. You never know - you might actually like it later. It _is _hard to figure it out the first time. I can't say that I'm fond of the sport, but to tell you the truth, I always found it hard too."

"Humph. Well it's good to know I ain't the only one. Hey there, Princess," he said, kneeling next to his baby sister's crib. She smiled toothlessly, waving a small white rattle in her hand. Gently running his fingers across her belly, she giggled as she usually did.

"She's been the perfect young lady all this time. She barely ever cries now," commented Breha.

Han didn't reply. He simply continued to watch Leia maneuver around in the short space and wondered whether it would be all right to pick her up.

Something was beeping. Breha looked at the nightstand, where some machinery was sitting. With the touch of her finger, she pressed it on and the beeping ceased. A guard appeared in the hologram.

_"Your Highness, your presence has been requested by His Majesty Bail Organa. It is urgent, he says."_

Frowning, she responded, "All right. Tell him that I will be there as soon as I can."

The guard nodded and then the transmission ended. Why hadn't Bail just commed her himself? Puzzled, she asked Han if he could watch over Leia and possibly feed her.

"Sure I can." Thanking the boy, she left.

Han carefully took a nearby can of Leia's blended food with a spoon and held Leia upright in his lap, dipping the utensil in the reddish glop lightly. Leia was cooperative, for the most part, as she seemed to enjoy the different mushed fruits.

And then it happened. Just a few seconds before, Han's danger sense clicked, and then, an almighty bang erupted in the room. Something hit hard against the left side of his body before he instinctively dropped to the floor, holding Leia tightly in his grip and shielding her with his own body. Fear flooded his entire being as he began crouching on the ground, trying to get as far away from the damaged area possible.

Leia was crying from the sudden explosion now, and distantly, Han felt pain in his leg. It was burning, but he barely paid it any heed as he moved his hands and knees frantically. Flames ignited behind him, and he only moved faster. Outside, Han could hear shooting. Lots of shooting.

With his heart beating a thousand kilometers a minute, Han was running down the stairs.

"Threepio?" His voice cracked in a high pitch. "Threepio! THREEPIO!" His voice had finally gone back to normal as his shouts grew louder.

Metal clanged until--

"Oh, my! Master Han, what in the world has happened?" The golden protocol droid, shaken and stained by some dark liquid, emerged from underneath a pile of rubble. Apparently, some of the ceiling had fallen on him.

"I dunno! Hurry up, we gotta get outta here!" Holding the infant Leia even tighter to his chest, the eight year old boy took Threepio's stiff hand in his and then proceeded to run towards the back door. His heart stopped when he heart footsteps coming in that direction.

"C'mon, we can't go this way!" Dragging the droid further, his mind was rushing in different directions. The outside wasn't safe, inside was probably about to be breached at any moment. . . But wasn't there a shelter in the basement?

"Hurry, I know where to hide!"

His fingers shaking, Han managed to open the trap door to the shelter. It was dark and long. He couldn't see a thing. Cautiously, Han walked down the staircase, the only light being Threepio's optical receptors. Before he knew it, he was back on flat ground.

As his eyes began to adjust to the darkness, he observed that the space was very cramped. But it did contain a few chairs. Sitting down, Han felt he could finally breathe. Rocking Leia gently, he heard her crying soften. He hummed and rocked her a time (he didn't know how long) until she finally fell asleep.

Although he very much would have liked to turn Threepio off, he felt it better if the droid were on, just in case. Surprisingly, he didn't say much, except for the usual fretting. Yet when Han was silent, the droid finally went on standby.

Almost completely alone, in the strangeness of the dark and wondering what exactly could be going on outside, Han fell fast asleep.


	9. A Reluctant Invalid

"It was very quick thinking on his part. He's very lucky to be alive, with all of the blood he lost in his left leg." _Beep . . . beep . . . beep . . ._

"How long does that need to be on?"

"I would venture to say at least six weeks. While studies have proven a rapid increase in the healing process, it is still a questionable procedure that should be regarded with caution. No more than two months, but definitely six weeks. He shouldn't try to do any strenuous activity during that time, and when he does want to walk, I'd suggest the use of either crutches or a hoverchair."

Slowly, Han opened his eyes. The lids felt sticky, somewhat. For a time, his hazel eyes blinked open and shut until he finally accomplished lifting his head, and, in turn, sitting up on the bed. His muscles screamed in protest - they were terribly tired and achy. Without much choice, he collapsed back onto the semi-soft mattress, his eyelids heavy with sleep.

"Han! You're awake!" Nial sounded tremendously close to his ear.

"Shh, Nial. Han must be very tired. You shouldn't disturb him right now," reprimanded Tia.

"Oh. Sorry Han." The soft patter of footsteps, and Nial was gone with his mother scooting him out.

"Yeah," he muttered softly, not feeling it very easy to speak at the moment. "Wha . . . what happened?"

It felt like an eternity before warmly perspiring fingers encircled around Han's left hand, gripping on tightly. Somewhere in his brain Han could tell that they were Breha's fingers, and from the tone of her voice he heard her weariness and worry.

"Han, I am so, so sorry," the Queen began.

A sudden alarm rose to Han's mind - where was Leia? Was she alright?

"There was an attempt on Leia's life. But thanks to your bravery, she is safe. I am so sorry that I didn't see -- I mean, the comcall I received was a set up. I cannot believe how easy it was for them to try to kill you both." Breha's voice broke as she continued, "It was a group of. . . of people who believe that our way of ruling is wrong. They pretended to be guards, you see. Your leg was injured in the explosion, Han. You won't be able to walk on it for a few weeks. Oh, I'm sorry," she repeated in tears.

"Darling, both you and Han need rest. It was not your fault, alright? Please, go rest." Out of the corner of his slightly open eye, Han saw Bail and Breha embrace each other shortly before she left, her head hung over a handkerchief.

Pushing himself up on his elbows restlessly, Han opened his eyes wide when a shocking jolt of static-like pain ran up through his left leg. He found it encased in a transparent blue cast, and it felt strangely tingly and warm. There were a few cords and wires that had been connected to and were underneath the cast; most likely some sophisticated medical technique.

"Didja get 'em? The guys who were tryin' to fry us to bits?"

Bail nodded, his expression pensive. "Yes. Yes, we did. There will be a trial soon, but I warn you Han that you may have to testify."

Thinking back to yesterday's debacle, anger welled in Han's insides. He remembered his sister's wails ever so distinctly that he felt disgust for the people who had tried to kill her - to kill both of them.

"Fine. I wanna see these guys pay! Leia's just a little baby - what kinda sick person's gonna have a grudge against a baby so bad to kill it?"

"Sometimes Han, as you will learn in this Galaxy, people will do terrible things to get what they want. To these people, killing children is just. . . Justifying the means for the ends."

"It's way _sick_. People who're gonna kill babies for no good reason don't deserve to live," Han proclaimed huffily.

Bail rested a calm, if tired, hand on his adoptive son's trembling hand. "I understand how you feel Han; but just remember not to be so quick to judge, even if was is on the surface appears to be all, there is almost always another side of the story."

Han frowned. Was this another one of those things about peace?

"I know that you probably don't want to hear it, but just remember that keeping a partially opened mind is not a bad thing." The boy nodded, his respect for Bail surpassing the slight confusion derived from his words.

"Now you should rest. We don't want you getting worked up and getting worse than you already are. And you're going to be taking it easy for the next six weeks, okay?"

Fighting back a yawn, Han answered, "Yeah, I know. I guess it won't be that bad. Can I see Leia before I have to go back to sleep?"

Smiling, the Alderaanian replied, "Of course. I will be back shortly." Bail arose from his seat and went out the door, leaving Han feeling more tired than ever. Whatever the hospital had injected into his system had really taken it out of him. Han tried fighting the power of the meds, but even as Bail departed, Han's vision was becoming hazier and hazier. But her was Han Solo-- he could stay awake, especially for his sister.

When Bail brought a sleeping Leia back to Han's room, the seven-year old was ready to pass out. Yet he still took a long moment to make sure that his baby sister was okay, and that he'd done his job correctly. With his eyes still focused on Leia's peaceful face, Han drifted quickly into slumber.

* * *

Han hated staying in bed. That was one thing he was sure of. He also hated getting his homework by correspondence, and to top it off, he hated not being able to go outside and play with Nial. There were lots of other things Han could say that he hated at the moment, that he was sure of, and that they definitely coincided with each other. At the moment, he was trying to concentrate on getting to the 'fresher successfully and without the assistance of certain golden protocol droids.

"Master Han!" Han groaned, irked that he had been caught by Goldenrod. He reasoned that if he didn't reply and kept walking, Threepio would eventually leave to find help. By the time he got back, Han would already be back in bed. That'd show him.

So the boy persisted in walking, sans crutch, to the 'fresher. It was a small form of liberation that Han savored for a short time. However, he had to admit that he also hated limping. He thanked the gods and goddesses that there were only three weeks left of this stupid bed-ridden quarantine.

When Han emerged from the refresher, he could hear the whole herd of them coming. Threepio was always such a drama queen. Practically hopping on one foot, Han rushed to reach his bed once more. In the nick of time, he had already adjusted the sheets and opened up another binder of homework, trying his best not to smile. The accompanying party consisted of Breha, Rouge, and Celly.

"Oh, dear, oh, dear. What's happened now?" cried Threepio.

"That is what we would all like to know," said Rouge curtly, upon seeing Han tucked into his bed.

Celly brought a hand to her forehead, another one of her "spells" coming on. "Oh, I think - I think that you've given me such a start that I shall faint." And then, glancing with one eye, she spotted a chair. It was so convenient that she managed to last until she had made a graceful fall into the seat.

"Han," Breha began, ignoring her sister-in-law's antics, "did you get out of bed and limp to the refresher?"

It was then that he faltered. Lying to Rouge, Celly, and Tia was one thing; lying to Breha and Bail was another. He could hear the chrono ticking by in that infuriatingly game-show fashion as he hesitated to answer her inquiry.

"Uh. . . yeah," he finally conceded. "But I'm gettin' real tired of just sittin' around here while everybody else has stuff to do."

Fixing him with a stern look, Breha returned, "Han. I understand that you're restless. It's to be expected. For the past three weeks you've been sitting in bed, and for a seven year old boy, I find that impressive. But you know that the only way to get better is to rest - resting is not running on one foot to the refresher. Why don't you turn on the HoloNet once in a while? Usually I wouldn't encourage it, but it doesn't require you getting out of bed at least."

Han's reply was instant.

"The only thing on the HoloNet is the news and..." he wrinkled his nose in distaste, "_Lannah Savannah_." His body gave a little shiver as he spoke the name. "Lannah Savannah" was some girly show about some singer who pretended not to be, and it was all about girly stuff like boyfriends, make-up, and clothes and other stupid stuff that Han didn't care for in the least.

Breha resisted the desire to do something improper like snort out laughing. Her adoptive son was outspoken and so typically boyish that it only reminded her of how much he had changed from being a small, shy, suspicious child in a foreign setting to a well-rounded, dynamic kid.

"I'll make a deal with you, young man. Spend two more days in this bed with Threepio to help you with anything you need, and then when your two _very immobile _days are over, I'll let you have a hoverchair so that you can roam around without stressing your leg. What do you say to that?"

Grudgingly, her endearing and well-rounded, dynamic kid realized why she made such a good queen.


	10. Staring Straight

Mud. Think of mud.

Han's head was beginning to ache under the pressure. Sweat began forming in small beads across his forehead and under his collar. Tension, thick as Alderaanian stew, rose exponentially between himself and his opponent. Unable to handle the strain any longer, he blinked.

Laughter flowed fast in a giggly, almost melodious tune.

"Blast," the boy exclaimed, rubbing his eyes, "She's won again."

"You to are _so _weird," retorted Nial dismissively.

In mock-anger, Han told him, "Hey, you're callin' us weird? Ain't you the one who paints pictures and plays like a hundred instruments?"

The year-old Leia laughed again, as if she understood their conversation.

"Sure - it's normal-ish enough. At least I don't compete with babies on the keyboard."

No longer bedridden and yet unable to go outisde the palace, Han had taken time to play even more with his sister, being that she seemed to be the only other playmate during the day. Due to a lack of communiation, that two had taken to staring at each other, which had quickly evolved into contests. So far, it was a game that Leia had been winning, much to her brother's chagrin.

"Someday I'll win this contest when big softy-eyes here is older."

Nial nodded, cleaning out his flute. "Sure you will."

Behind his cousin's back, Han pulled back his cheeks and wagged out his tongue. Once again, Leia was very, very amused. What was even more amusing was when she attempted to imitate him and a certain protocol droid walked in.

"Master Han, I do not think that Her Highness nor you, for that matter, should be inserting your fingers inside your mouths. It is very unclean, and the odds of catching a disease from such a--"

"Hey there, See-Threepio," interrupted Nial, already tired of the droid's boring speech.

"Greetings, Master Nial. I see that you are cleaning your instrument - may I be of any assistance?"

Blowing a bit of dust off the mouthpiece, the eight-year-old replied, "Uh, I think I'm good. What's for lunch?"

"I believe that Chef Caoimhe has prepared a new recipe - some sort of thing called 'chili.' To my knowledge, the dish is served traditionally on Felucia. I am afraid it has quite a lot of spices."

Feeling himself growing hungry, Han held Leia and inserted her into his lap. "Time for lunch, Princess." Using the simple controls of the hoverchair, he was downstairs faster than Nial could say, "Hey, Han! Wait for me!"

"So..." Breha cleared her throat, "how does everyone like it?"

"When you say 'it' dear, are you referring to this strange soup? Or shall I call it soup?" Rouge, who had been slowly shifting the viscous contents of her bowl around with a spoon, had barely eaten any of the chili at all.

With his usual knack for timing and table manners, Han readily supplied his opinion. "Whatever it's called, it's pretty good! Y'know I'm actually feelin' kinda hungry, so could I get some more please?"

"You _may," _intoned his aunt.

He rolled his eyes as the server droid ladled more of the reddish substance into the porcelain. As Han began to dig in, albeit a little more politely, Bail took the opportunity to raise the subject that had been bothering him for the past six weeks.

"Han, do you remember what I told you about those people? The ones who tried to hurt you and Leia?"

Slurping another spoonful in, he replied, "Yeah. What happened to them?"

"Well, right now they are being held in prison. But a trial will be held for them in another two months. It's been requested that you testify in order for the jury to create a fitting punishment. Are you willing to do that?"

"Whaddaya mean by testify?"

"It means that you will have to tell a room of people about what happened the day of the explosion and just what you did to stay alive. Just recount that day is all."

Han considered this a couple of moments. As soon as he finished the chili, he said, "Yeah, I'll do it. How bad can it be?"

* * *

Court proceedings were generally boring in the extreme. This trial was more for show than anything else, Bail Organa was unhappy to admit. However, it was the law that these terrorists would be afforded a trial by jury. He only wished that Han didn't have to be called upon as a witness. Despite his confidence in the boy, he knew that the lawyer of the culprits was one of a growing many who was under the impression that the royal line ought to be extinguished. Mazalki would stop at nothing to win the case, which included destroying the credibility of an eight year old boy.

Mazalki was a clever man who didn't much care for his clients or his cases on a level that actually registered with his memory. Instead, he was one of those kinds of lawyers who had the wonderful ability to manipulate and used rhetoric. Yet in doing so, he had no regard whatsoever towards his soul, a thing which people often doubted the existence of.

Breathing slowly, Bail lifted his head from his hands and stood erect to face forward, opposite the jury panel. The brief recess was almost over, and it was time to get Han on the stand, in front of the entire galaxy. _It's going to be all right, _he told himself for the umpteenth time that day.

Bail turned in his seat to wave Han forward. With the assistance of a crutch, Han limped into the witnesses chair. He gulped nervously. The skin under his collar was heating up uncomfortably; in fact, the entire room seemed to be getting increasingly warmer. There were a lot of people to talk to, that was for sure. For having such a big room, it certainly looked a lot smaller when it was filled with people. All along the back wall sat two rows of people who Bail had told him were the jury.

When Han had asked what "jury" meant, he'd been told that the jury were the people who decided whether a defendant was guilty or not. Then Han had asked what happened when a person was guilty and the jury said he wasn't, and what about the other way around? Bail had sighed and told him that it was why people created Empires. Han still had a lot to understand about law, but there were some things he thought that he might never understand.

"Your name please?" A solemn man with rat-like features and a thing figure stood in front of him, a dusty tome in his hand.

"H-H..." he cleared his throat loudly, "Han Solo." _Don't show 'em you're scared._

Remembering all that Bail had told him, Han placed his hand on the top of the massive book - it was the official recording of Alderaanian law, the ultimate collection of amendments, scrolls, and so on. As the little man asked him to repeat the oath, Han's voice grew steadily louder and clearer. He could do this. Finally, the man whisked the book away, enabling Bjoren Mazalki to begin questioning.


	11. Witness

A/N: To **JM - **You make a good point, but I'm writing it under the assumption that it _is Star Wars, _and it probably doesn't work that way. After all, I'm pretty sure that they raised her the same way in canon. Besides, it's not like normal royalty. It's the _Star Wars, _Alderaan equivalent that works a lot more like a constitutional monarchy composed of several different families.

* * *

"Alright. Han Solo. How old are you?"

The man peered down at him condescendingly. Keeping his cool, Han answered, "Eight and a half, sir."

"My, my. You're quite big, aren't you? Tell me, what happened the day of your accident?"

"Accident? Wha--" Han stopped short of saying something that he would regret later when he saw Bail's slight hand signal. _Don't go there, just answer the question. _

The boy cleared his throat. "Uh, okay. Well, we were goin' skiing and I came inside to the house 'cause... well, I came into the house and went upstairs. Bre--"

"Tell me, Han. Why is it that you stopped skiing."

Embarrassed, heat rose from Han's neck and filled his face. "I... I can't ski."

The attorney turned on his heel and continued walking the other way, as if pacing about the room in wait of the opportune moment to pounce. It was making Han more nervous than he had been before. "Ah, I see. Yes, well when you were outside, what happened?"

"Objection!" The Chief of Justice shouted, hopping up from his seat.

"Overruled, Counselor," the first judge replied.

Frowning, the Alderaanian sat back down. Han saw him whisper something into Bail's ear before he opened his mouth, finding it dry. "Well, I guess I fell a lot," he stated flatly.

Mazalki nodded, turning and walking back down the room again. "On your head?"

The eight year old scanned his brain a few short moments, thinking back to that day and finding anything but the explosion easy to remember. Really, all he knew was that it had been a rough day of falling on his sorry bum, getting blown up, and then waking up in the hospital feeling like he'd gotten run over by a star destroyer. "Yeah. Yeah, I think I hit my head a bit."

"You _think? _Don't you _know_? It was your head, after all."

Bail signaled his adoptive son again as soon as he noted the boy's irritation. Now more annoyed than nervous, Han apologized, "Sorry. I meant that I was kind of -- well, I just wasn't real good at skiing. It was cold out too, so I went inside, like I said."

"Of course." When the sole of his boot landed soundly on the marble floor, Mazalki stopped pacing and looked directly at Han, a smug little smile on his face. "All right, Han. What else happened after that?"

"I went upstairs and sat with Bre-- I mean, Queen Breha and Princess Leia. Queen Breha left the room after she got a comcall. I was just sittin' there with the Princess when the room blew up. I took her downstairs with Goldrenrod and into the basement," Han tried to finish as quickly as possible.

"Excuse me?"

"You're excused." A wave of suppressed laughter enveloped the audience, but Mazalki was far from amused, his mouth forming a firm line of consternation. What impertinence!

The hushed laughter died down quickly, as did the chatter that had followed. Running his plans through his head once more, he put on a saccharine smile and circled the room once more, turning on his heel to face the witness stand at the end of his lap around the room. The cunning lawyer and his young witness locked eyes, Han almost taken aback by the fire that blazed in the hazel eyes of his opponent.

The tension was palpable, chilling to the point of the entire room's silence. Not even the judges dared to move and disturb the fragile lead into the storm. And just as lightning strikes without warning, so did Mazalki, his mouth a blur to form the words:

"Tell me about yourself, Han," he began, quite obviously intending to keep on talking. "You were adopted from the streets of Corellia by the Viceroy Bail Organa nearly two years ago, were you not? Following this, you entered Alderaan under the guise of being an orphan. Yet your parents were alive?"

Although he struggled to form the words, Han's mouth merely flapped with an inaudible sort of gibberish. Bail had risen from his seat from shock and anger. Why hadn't this been discussed or revealed before? How could Mazalki have found it, or was he making it up?

The Chief of Justice was shouting, almost nonsensically, "Objection! Objection!" despite the fact that the Judges were hollering the motion back in his face. As bickering began between the head of the panel and the Chief of Justice, the members of the court and the rest of the Judges were engrossed by Mazalki's interrogation. As the insidious man continued, his voice only gained more volime and conviction. Above all, he was the loudest in the room.

Han sat completely still as Mazalki raged on. "Didn't you run away from them nearly three years ago, thinking only of how you could have more somewhere else? Isn't it true that you're just a spoiled and selfish boy who conned his way onto this planet? Isn't it true that none of these people," Mazalki waved his hand around the courtroom, "can trust a single word you say because we don't know whether it's what you made up?"

Crutches clashed to the ground as Han stood, albeit painfully. "I ain't any of the things you said, and I'm not makin' this up! I've never even seen my parents, _sleemo! _And I don't see what it's gotta do with anything when those guys," Han pointed to the three defendants, "tried to kill my little sister! How stupid do ya gotta be to know that there was a bomb?"

Han's eight year old voice never wavered, loud and undeterred by the court's silence. After he stopped, he found himself panting from intense anger and exhaustion. Standing on both legs was still too much, but he stood his ground, waiting for whatever Mazalki was prepared to throw at him next. The Judges were vaguely aware of the fact that they should have probably ordered some kind of recess to prevent this scene from occurring. But as the head of the panel took the gavel in his hand, Mazalki evenly countered,

"You say you've never met your parents? Then why do they say that they've met you?" His hand rose as a signal, and the guards pulled the double doors into the room.

As all heads turned towards the entrance, the lawyer said, "I call my next witnesses, Taran and Allana Solo."


End file.
